Hetalia: I Am Country
by Rowan Lyneth
Summary: World War Three is at its peak. The earth is in ruins and the surviving civilians are underground in either bomb shelters or caves. Soldiers fight on the dead surface and parish from the harsh conditions daily. But, young Amelia still has hope for her world. Having recurring dreams of this "shining star", she takes the phrase "follow your dreams" quite literally. Rating /may/ rise.
1. Setting the Stage

_**I had this idea and I wrote this a week or so ago, and I just remembered it. I really want to write this series; it seems fun~ I just hope you all like it as much as me... **_

_**Hetalia: I Am Country! Set during WW3! This story will have multiple Acts. Act 1's main character is Amelia, a young American girl living in the cave systems of Kentucky. More characters will come. **_

_**This focuses on the Nyo!talia characters, but the regular characters will appear soon enough! Well! Enjoy! **_

* * *

**Hetalia: I Am Country**

**Act I: Stars and Stripes**

**Chapter 1: Setting the Stage**

_Do I really care? It was bound to happen. Stability is only a figment of our imagination. It is nonexistent. I knew this would happen one day. I knew it was coming. Yet, I fearlessly forced myself to believe peace was __**real**__ and within our greedy reach. But now, while war is upon me, do I really care for peace anymore? Or am I ready for the end._

World War Three.

Those words, words that were once a laugh to the individual mind, were all too real. A reality no one wanted to face. Now, all of humanity, save for the brave soldier, were cowering underground. Dark, dank holes they might as well call their graves. But who would want to travel to the surface? Who would want to escape the cold Hell they were in?

Above ground lay a wasteland. Lakes and rivers were dried up. The grass was dried to dust; deserts covered the once green earth. If one were lucky enough, the ground might just be solid, but cracked and brittle. Every now and again you would find the barren trunk of a tree. You may even find an Oasis: spots of land that had fresh water, lush greenery and trees. On every continent, this was hard to find. Soldiers flocked to Oases, solely for the water to drink. But there was a flip-side. For every Oasis was a Mirage. A Mirage appeared to be an Oasis, looked exactly like one. For the virgin eye, it _was _an Oasis. But a Mirage was different, it was a radioactive cesspool, the flora deformed and the fauna, if any, much worse. The water was lethal. Many soldiers, begging for water and relief from the Hell above, would run to the Mirage and parish.

And why wouldn't they? Why wouldn't they seek what they thought was paradise in this hellish, fallen world? They know not of life, of green. The world had since fallen to total industrialism, total grey. Dark dank caves had long since become the common man's home all for the war. The war that had lasted fifty years to the day.

Europe was the first to fall. Then Africa and the Middle East. Russia and the Americas fell much longer after the war started. The nuclear blast to them weren't so devastating, nor were there as many succeeded attempts. However, twelve years into it, a nuclear blast so large to both cleared the land for both parties. Asia miraculously was the final area of the world to fall into this wasteland. In Asia still are thriving cities, ones that withstood the blasts and are still above ground. But those are far in between. But, the real question? Who is fighting who and with whom?

A touchy subject. After fifty years many slivers of information found its way to the world's public. The New Allies: The US, Canada, UK, France, and Japan. The New Axis: Russia, China, and Germany. The Guarde: Spain, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Sweden, and Italy. Suitable for World War Three, is a three way battle. The supposed good (The Allies), the supposed bad (the Axis) and, finally, the Army for Peace, the "Neutral" Party (The Guarde).

Though, some say that the sides of the war aren't definite. Some say that Canada is pulling secret double agent work for the Axis and that some of the Guarde's powers were giving support to different sides. But that was all just hearsay. Rumors. Conspiracies.

But did it matter? Did it matter who was fighting with whom? Wasn't all that mattered was the end?

* * *

_Take a right, swing left, duck under the bat guano, and climb the terrace. _Amelia repeated in her mind. Classes were over for the day, and she was free to do as she wished. Her bare feet made little sound, perhaps light pitter-patter, on the cold rock of the cave floor. Her shadow sprinted behind her, trying to keep up with the soft glow of the lanterns. Her soft, light brown hair blew behind her, barely touching her shoulders. She spluttered, trying to get a stray curl out of her eye and to restrain it from whacking her cornea any longer. Though, sadly, her effort was fruitless.

The small American girl slid around a corner, excitement welling up in her stomach. She was so close to her little niche, her small alcove that she called her Elysium. It was far away from Butterfly Sect, and that meant peace and quiet. She kept a store of old books there for her to read in a shelf above the rock bed, and a small hand lantern to read by. In a bag on her back she carried a couple boxes of rations she would take from the kitchen when the cooks weren't looking. She wasn't supposed to be doing this, but she had a large appetite and had almost no self-control. This Amelia whole-heartedly admitted to herself, as she was the bluntest person she knew.

Lost in excitement and thought, Amelia tripped over her own feet and landed to the ground with an echoing yelp. As she picked herself up and dusted off her white tunic, she gasped as she heard a shout.

"Hey! What was that?"

"Go check it out!"

Amelia panicked. Scrambling to her feet, she dashed to a dark corner of the tunnel. Melding into the wall, she prayed to the unseen god that she would become the rock itself. Amelia held her breath as she watched the men of uniform run in her direction and stop. Their heads darted from side to side, searching relentlessly for the source of the sound. The glow of the lanterns reflected off their smoky grey helmets and shined off their decorations on their brown-grey camouflage. If Amelia didn't know better, she would've thought them to be shiny rocks. But from her position she knew all too well.

"I see nothin' Jack." One soldier said to the other. Jack shook his head, holding up his hand lantern.

"I swore I heard somethin'." He shined the light around the cavern; Amelia shrunk back into her corner. "Like some kid. Last thin' we need're wanderers."

"You sure you heard somethin'?"

"Hell yeah, Jay! You think I'm lyin'?" Jack shouted, irritated.

Jay chuckled nervously. "No! No! Just that we hadn't had any trouble with kids lately! Most're good and stay inside the Sect…"

Jack sighed. "One day though we're gonna get a hellion, and he's gonna run all over us cuz we ain't gonna be ready…" Shaking his head, the guard grabbed his friend by the arm. "C'mon, Cappin will be wonderin' where we are."

Amelia watched the two leave her area, one stumbling after the other. She huffed, feeling dizzy from holding her breath so long. Her cerulean eyes scanned her surroundings, trying to remember where she was. After a minute, she gathered her bearings and sauntered down the bleak, dark hall, towards her destination.


	2. The Light at the End of the Tunnel

_**Found my Flashdrive! Actually my mom found it in the floorboards of her car... but still! Love's Difficulties will be updated soon! I am sooooo sorry for the wait...**_

_**Anyway! Here is the next chapter of this act's Hetalia: I Am Country! I'm sorry, but i added in a few OCs. It helps the story get a little 'umph' to it! I like a thick plot and thick story, so adding OCs seemed to work. I also love OCs. They're fun to create.. and to destroy but I digress. Dont worry, I'll soon be out of the chapters that involve them.**_

_**I've also been thinking. I believe this Act will end within a few chapters. Maybe three more. I don't know exactly how many Acts there'll be, but I do know I will have three prologue Acts. This one being on of them. **_

_**I have to say I'm pretty proud of this story so far. I hope I'll be able to continue this and actually keep it updated pretty regularly, unlike Love's Difficulties. Again, I am sooo sorry about that.**_

_**Anyway! Without further ado, here you go! Next Chappie! Enjoy~**_

* * *

**Hetalia: I Am Country**

**Act 1: Stars and Stripes**

**Chapter 2: The Light at the End of the Tunnel**

The sky was a plethora of colors. The farther left she looked, the darker blue- almost a midnight blue- the sky appeared to be, and the farther right she gazed it would transition to a lighter blue, then a green, a yellow, an orange, followed by such a crimson she never imagined. The blood red sun sunk beneath the misty, purple mountains slowly, its light trickling away like water down a pipe.

She sat in tall grass of a light greenish yellow shade. Farther east, a forest stood as a barrier. Farther west stood the mountains brave. She felt like she was in a bowl of some sort. A large bowl that kept her encased and imprisoned. Amelia could not fathom an escape, nor did she try. What was the point? Fireflies danced above and around her, circling the delicately glowing pond nearby. Cattails swayed in the gentle breeze. This was paradise, a home she always knew, and forever would know. She would never learn what was passed the darkened edge of the woods, or what lay beyond the mountain majesties. She was content in her bubble, and quite refused to leave.

Amelia stared up at the sky once more. Her aqua eyes flickered from star to star. This little utopia was the only place she could _see_ the stars or the sky. Never once in her life had she seen either first person. It was always in a painting or photograph that some of the elders had been able to scavenge from their homes before rushing off to the caves. Because of this, she had grown a fondness of the stars. She, one day, wished to see them for herself and not from some old crummy picture. It was a goal she set for herself. It kept her going.

Amelia laid back, her white tunic crinkling under her. Resting her arms behind her head, she glanced once more up at the sky. Yawning as she was tired, she blinked out the exhaustion that formed as tears in her eyes. As she did so, she could have sworn that one of the stars twinkled more brightly than the other stars. Furrowing her brow, she focused all of her attention on that certain star. Just when she thought nothing would happen and that she was just seeing things, it flashed brightly again. It continued to so this until the white light was so bright that Amelia had to squeezed her sensitive eyes shut.

When the light behind her lids receded, she opened them up again. The area was empty once more, and she began to relax. She soon found herself dead asleep.

* * *

Amelia woke with a start to the dinner bell ringing. The large bell's echo was loud enough to reach even the American girl who lay on her platform with _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_, one of a great classic saga, draped over her face like a sleep mask. She scrambled to her feet, tossing the book on the rock in a hurry to sprint back to the Sect. She knew it was only a matter of time before the second bell rung and all dilly-dalliers would be punished for not making it to the Dining Hall in time.

The second bell had rung, and Amelia knew she was absolutely late. She tiptoed her way to the large double doors that were installed into the cave walls when the surface refugees escaped to the caves fifty years back. Pushing it open just a crack, she examined the room. The adults were at the tables eating their portion of the rations, as well as the infants and children. The mandatory examination was being held for the adolescents currently. Amelia scowled. It would be difficult to sneak in now, but to skip meal altogether was even worse. If she had no legit excuse for being absent she would be questioned and her frolicking outside of the Sect would be found out.

That's the last thing she needed.

She slipped into the crack and got on all fours. Crawling to the end of the line, she straightened herself up and tried to make herself appear the least bit presentable. Any violation of the sanitary code would result in either late start on the meal or suspension until breakfast the next morning.

She didn't want that.

The boy she stood next to rolled his green eyes at her, knowing exactly what happened. "When will you actually get a grip on yourself and stop this flaunting?" he whispered to her, quite harshly I might add.

"_Flaunting?_ It'd be flaunting if the caught me and I still do it. Really, Booker, get your words right." Amelia returned slightly louder than she intended. She winced, hoping the sanitation inspector didn't hear her. Booker just ran a hand through his hair, exasperated.

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

It didn't take long, but to Amelia it felt like hours, before the inspector reached the end of the line. Booker passed the inspection and was allowed to sit and wait for the teen table to start eating. The man in the white coat looked Amelia over multiple times, scrutinizing every aspect of her being, before pausing. Amelia gulped. He reached over and dusted off her shoulder with a gloved hand.

"Spending time out of the Boards?" he asked, a sly smile on his face.

Amelia nodded. "Yes sir."

The man sighed. "I _should_ tell you to leave and wash up, delaying your table precious meal time. However, I can't eat until everyone has started, and I'm hungry. Be blessed that you are at the end of the line. I'll let you off today." Amelia's eyes brightened and she smiled, nodding feverously. "Alright, off you go." The doctor waved her off and Amelia sprinted to the last seat of the table.

"Get caught yet?" Booker questioned as Amelia gave him a frown.

"No." she said indignantly. "I was just _spending time out of the Boards._" The girl smiled ruefully.

"You will get caught one of these days, ya know." Her friend noted. "You can't just go off high-tailing it out of the Sect at every shot you get."

Amelia shook her head. Unlike her, Booker liked staying in the Sect. He worked at a print shop with his father, one of the last Printers in the Honeycomb. All publishing houses were governmentally controlled now, and they had very few, thus resulting in a lack of written material and less people with the ability to read. Only those with a high testing rate in grade school were allowed to be taught to read. Up until that point everything was oral. Amelia had an okay testing rate. An overall B: This barely allowed her to pass. However, those born after her were given a harder test and only A students could read after that. I digress. Booker, being the son of such a publisher, was given some government benefits, which gave him a higher status, so staying in the Sect was most enjoyable for him.

Amelia was an orphan, had been as long as she could remember, and was sent to Kentucky's Honeycomb with the rest of her lot from Atlanta, Georgia when the bomb shelter closed to outsiders, due to lack of room and rations. She was the lowest of the low and often suffered abuse from higher ups because of it. Booker happened to be a nicer noble, and thus was her closest friend.

She stabbed at the small portion of meat on her plate. "You would too if you were me."

The boy adjusted his glasses before scooping up a spoonful of mash potatoes and shoving it in his mouth. Swallowing, he put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Honestly, Amy, I understand what's going on. But if you stop being so damn reckless then maybe they'd at least ignore you like the rest of the orphans. It's better than being cornered all the time right?"

The blue eyed girl rolled her shoulder, effectively tossing the hand off. "You and I both know that's a lie! They don't give a damn about me! I'm surprised you do, Mr. Well-done Steak." She motioned to the piece of meat on her friend's plate. He was one of the few at the table to get steak, while the rest got some type of mystery meat blend. It was just one of the perks to being a publisher's son. Amelia continued. "I just… I just feel so claustrophobic. My ADHD starts up and I have to _move_. And everything looks the same. I don't like it here. I… I just don't feel right." She picked up a piece of broccoli and threw it in her mouth, rolling it around with her tongue before giving it a hard bite and swallowing. "Too many rules, too many restrictions, too much of nothing really."

Booker considered this before speaking. "Yes… but there have always been rules, and always have been restrictions. Without them the Honeycomb would fall to pieces. We've grown up like this, Amy, how else can we live?"

Amelia bit her lip. "I… I don't know."

The conversation fell after this.

"Booker? Can I hang out with you until curfew? I really don't want to go home right now." Amelia asked as dinner was ending and the bell was rung for all civilians to leave. Booker stretched, snapping his back multiple times. Amelia's mouth twisted in a disturbed fashion at the sound of the heavy pops. "Damn, brah, what do you do all day?!"

Booker chuckled. "Read books and print them. It's a very stoic job. You'd hate it!"

"Sounds like it."

"But sure. I need to help my dad with something so you can help out if you want." Booker smiled his charming smile. Amelia always liked it when he smiled; it calmed her immensely when he did.

"I won't be sitting in a chair the entire time, will I?" she questioned halfheartedly.

"Maybe." Amelia glowered at this reply, causing her friend to laugh.

* * *

"_ACHOO!"_

"Bless you."

"_A-ACHOO!"_

"Gesundheit."

"_A-CH-CHOO!"_

"Seriously, Amy, I'm not saying it again."

"Geh… sorry." Amelia sniffed. The room was filled with dust from top to bottom. She was normally the healthy sort, but dust always got her sneezing up a storm. Booker assumed it was an allergy, but she wasn't too sure. She just thought dust was out to kill her.

The two were stacking books on shelves. Or, really, Booker labeling the books and Amelia stacking them. Most of these were older classics, ones that several generations before them studied, like the _Iliad, _but there were some "newer" classics like _the Hunger Games _and _Harry Potter_, things that took the world by storm in their time. Dust covered each paperback cover (it was rare for the Gage Publishing house to have hardcovers), and as each book was slid into the shelf next to another, the fine dirt flew. The old rock-walled room had this grubby appearance from it, a dull grey that soaked up the light from the torches that lined the walls.

As Amelia shoved another book on the top shelf, a clump of dust attacked her face, causing her to cough violently, falling off the ladder. She put her hands to her throat and choked out, "It's an assassination Booker! Help me! The enemy is attacking!"

Booker just looked at her for a moment. He glanced up at the shelf she was stacking. "The letter P comes before R, Amy, you'll have to reshelf those." He turned back to his labeling.

Amelia hacked up the dust, sitting on the floor as her body shook once she was done coughing. Breathing heavily, she sent a glare up to her friend. "Jackass…" she huffed.

"Hee-Haw."

There was a clatter as the door to their right opened. Mr. Gage stepped in backwards, dragging a worn out box behind him. Booker's father was an older man whom Amelia was always shocked by. The man was in his late fifties, being born not long before the start of the war, yet had the strength of a young man. He could do much more than Booker could, who was more of the intellectual sort, and was even offered a sentry job. However, he declined the offer and stayed put in his little book house where he belonged. In secret, he felt if he joined the sentry it would make them all feel and look bad considering those men who were placed as sentry weren't as educated as most working class men. They were the lower test group. Gage, being a man who passed the higher grades, felt he didn't belong on sentry duty.

Huffing, he sent a smile back at the two kids. "Here's s'more! Found these in my storage room. The government told me to put them out there for the higher grades." A resounding "okay" came from the two youngsters. The three set to work again, labeling and shelving. After a bit, Gage spoke to Amelia, "How've you been, Amy? Haven't seen you in a while."

"Dad, you saw her last week."

"Yeah, but when you two were wee little things, you two were inseparable. Now it's like 'Oh, I'll see you sometime Amy!' What happened to you being here every day helping an old man do menial labor?"

Amelia laughed. "You know you could do this without me Mr. Gage." She received a smile for that.

"O'course, but doesn't mean I don't like the help!"

The girl grinned, but then waved a hand over to Booker. "Ask your son. He's been snippy lately."

The father turned on his son then, causing a confused reaction on the boy. "You've been snippy lately? What've you been doing with ice down your pants for? This is a one of a kind girl, there's no need to push her away!"

Booker subconsciously crossed his legs as he sat on the wooden stool. "Seriously, a guy gets ice in his pants one time… and that wasn't even my fault that was Amelia's!"

"You deserved it. You ate my ice cream cup."

"But I thought you said you didn't like chocolate."

"No I love chocolate. It's mint that I don't like."

"We never get mint."

"Exactly, so I always hated it!"

"How can you hate something you've never even tried?"

"Because I heard stories from the older kids saying it was strong and yucky."

"If one of the older kids told you to jump into the haunted cavern, would you do it?"

"I was five, of course I would!"

Gage rolled his eyes at the two, commenting how the two fought like an old married couple. This effectively caused the teens to shut their mouths as their cheeks reddened into tomatoes. The three worked in silence for a little while, until Amelia picked up a book. She opened it and read a passage.

"_'Twas noontide of summer,_

_And mid-time of night;_

_And stars, in their orbits,_

_Shone pale, thro' the light_

_Of the brighter, cold moon,_

_'Mid planets her slaves,_

_Herself in the Heavens,_

_Her beam on the waves._

_I gazed awhile_

_On her cold smile;_

_Too cold- too cold for me-_

_There pass'd, as a shroud,_

_A fleecy cloud,_

_And I turned away to thee,_

_Proud Evening Star,_

_In thy glory afar,_

_And dearer thy beam shall be;_

_For joy to my heart_

_Is the proud part_

_Thou bearest in Heaven at night,_

_And more I admire_

_Thy distant fire,_

_Than that colder, lowly light."_

The passage was from a book of poems by a man named Edgar Alan Poe. Amelia reread the poem gain and again. _What is a star anyway_? She asked herself. She had read so many books, and so many of them had these stars in them. Of course, living in a cave all of her life, she had never seen the stars. No one had that was born after the war began.

"A star is a ball of gas far in the corners of space and spread across the galaxy." Gage remarked. Amelia hadn't even realized she had spoken aloud.

Booker gave his father a look. "Space? You mean the blackness that supposedly rests beyond the sky outside?"

"Yes. Do they not teach you about space in school?" Gage stood up, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

Amelia shook her head. "They mentioned it once back in the earlier years, but after that they won't say anything on the outside."

Gage barked out a laugh. "Hiding the truth about the outside from you all. Sounds just like them. What do they think? We're going to stay in this eternal night forever? We need sunlight. Humans weren't built for this kind of environment."

"Is that why the birthrate has decreased?" Booker asked as he picked a label off the spine of a fading cover. "Since we weren't built to live in caves the men and women are slowly becoming infertile?"

"Nah," the old man dismissed the statement with a slightly annoyed tone, "it's not that. The government has issued tests to perspective parents. Only couples that pass can have children. They're slowly weeding us out. Soon they'll pass a law dictating how many kids we can have each, I know it."

Amelia ignored the crumpled feeling she got in her stomach as Booker asked another question. "Isn't that a good idea though? We all have to survive off rations and the more kids we are producing the less food for the rest of us. We aren't on an endless supply of food."

"We aren't supposed to be here this long, child. My grandfather, when we were issued to find shelter when the first bombs struck, told me that the first two World Wars only lasted four and six years respectively, and even less for the Americans since we're late to everything. We shouldn't be here. I say the war must be over by now. Just some governmental crap that needs to be fixed. No one, not even the Axis, wants to be trapped underground this long."

"But what about the wasteland above us? They say that the surface is inhospitable."

"I say that's a load of blarney. Mother Nature knows how to heal herself, no matter how much radiation we stuff into her. If anything, we could adapt to harsher air. What we can't fully adapt to is complete and utter darkness. Why, if it weren't for all the torches lighting the walls constantly, we'd be all blind by now!"

An uncomfortable silence fell over the small family, though Amelia didn't notice. She was off in her own world. After a minute, she spoke up. "Mr. Gage, you lived outside the cave for a while right?"

"Eight years, why?"

"What do stars look like?" it was something that was on her mind. She needed to know. What were stars? What did they mean? What did they look like?

Gage set his book down on the shelf, and sat down on the floor, thinking. "Stars… they're small. Some are bright and some are dull. There are thousands of them. Some say that if you wished on the first star you saw, your wish would come true. Wishing on stars was a cultural habit, especially for small children. My mamma would sit with me at the windowsill and point to the brightest star in the sky and tell me to make a wish. For some, the star represented hope. You'll find that in most literature, actually, Amy."

Amelia rubbed her arm with her other hand. "Hope… I see hope." She muttered.

"What was that?" the grey haired man asked.

"Nothing." Amelia answered quickly. "We need to hurry and get this done. I'll have to be back home before curfew."

Booker bit his bottom lip, chewing on it before offering an alternate solution. "You could stay over for the night. It'll give us more time. If it's okay with Dad, of course."

Amelia smiled and looked over to the wrinkled being. "Mr. Gage?"

"I'll call the orphanage to let them know you're staying." Gage officiated. He stood up, dusted off his pants, and began to walk out of the room before turning around and giving his son a wink. "If you want me to, I can go to bed early. I won't hear a thing."

It took a minute for the two in question to process the information given to them, but, once they realized what the adult had said, Amelia shrieked and Booker covered his face with his hands. Mr. Gage sauntered out of the room, chuckling to himself, knowing he was oing to get reprimanded for that one later.


	3. Hope Personified

_**Feel like this chapter should be longer... Well... Having a little trouble I guess... I dunno.**_

_**So! I got a guest review by PastryPuffins (I keep thinking of Iceland eating a cupcake... dunno why...) asking if the characters are countries or just humans and if there are going to be pairings. Well, to the pairings question: That got me thinking! I had thought about it and I've decided OCs only get one sided love... they will never be loved back.. mehehehe~ evilness. But when it comes to the actual Hetalia characters, I really don't know. I kind of want to have maybe some hinting, but, as to actual relationships, I don't know... I guess we'll both find out. When it comes to the countries or not question: ... I don't know how to answer this without giving the plot away... Uhm... When you see the characters like Amelia and Feliciana the answer is yes and no, and when you see characters like Alfred and Feliciano then the answer is yes. Does that answer it well enough? **_

_**I would've answered this back through the review process and all that jazz but FF was being mean to me and wouldn't let me do it/figure it out. I'm supposing since it's a guest review it does that. (P.S. Thanks for the perish, parish thing. I've gotten so used to my computer autocorrecting it for me that I tend to skip over minor details like are probably some in this chapter too... ^^;;I really need to proofread...)**_

_**Anyway, I liked this chapter~ It was fun to write! I say there'll be either one or two more chapters of this Act left then I'll give you a little transition chapter between Act 1 and Act 2. Also, I'm sorry if the plot seems a little rushed. I noticed it as I was writing that more time should've passed before well... you'll see when you get there. Fictional media nowadays seems so rushed in the plot, I've realized, and I've always tried to avoid that. I guess it just slipped me this time... maybe it's for the better. Oh well.**_

_**Enjoy~ **_

* * *

**Hetalia: I Am Country**

**Act 1: Stars and Stripes**

**Chapter 3: Hope Personified**

Amelia lay awake. She huffed and puffed and rolled about on the thin mattress that was Booker's bed. He had offered to sleep on the floor, letting her have the bed. She refused at first, not wanting him to wake up with severe back pain that comes from sleeping on a slab of rock all night, but eventually let him do as he wished since he was being so damn stubborn about it. She eventually rolled onto her back, throwing an arm over her eyes. She couldn't sleep. Booker's father's words rang in her head still.

So many laws. So many restrictions. So much of nothing really.

She listed off all the rules in the Butterfly Sect. She frowned when she ran out of fingers and toes. She understood that rules kept things in order and people safe, but judging by the rules that were placed upon the Flutterbies, the young woman concluded almost no real freedom. No wonder she felt claustrophobic. No wonder her ADHD acted up so much. She wasn't allowed to _move_. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

Her stomach churned. She was never happy, but this just made her nervous.

Amelia closed her eyes, praying for sleep.

* * *

Blue orbs snapped open. The first thing she noticed was that she couldn't see a thing. The second was the dank, stale air. It was suffocating. Amelia tried to move her arms, but found something cold and metallic locking them together behind her. The object cut into her skin, and she felt something warm erupt from her wrists and crawl down her fingers, dripping to the floor. Her arms were wrapped around something she assumed to be a large pole. She sat on the floor, her legs bent under her, head bent down. After a moment she realized there was a blindfold over her eyes, the cloth lightly rubbing against her pallid cheeks.

This was an entirely new situation.

She should scream. She knew she should scream. However, her voice was stuck in her throat and not coming out. She just couldn't. No. She wouldn't. There was a difference and she knew it.

Something started peeking through the blindfold. From behind the cloth her eyes detected light. The light grew and grew until she had to squeeze her eyes shut. The intensity hurt, but she didn't turn away.

"So you finally are starting to come to your senses, huh?"

_What? _

"I've been waiting for you to get the hint. I almost thought you wouldn't."

_Who?_

"You can speak now, I won't oppress you."

Amelia felt her throat loosen, like her vocal chords undid a knot on their own. A bubble of air thundered through her throat, causing her to hack up a lung. She spit out a wad of saliva to the floor, clearing her throat for good. She sighed in relief.

"Well?"

At the sound of the voice, panic struck her immediately. She realized her vulnerable position, finding the masculine voice to be a bit, if not more, nerve wracking. "Who are you?! What do you want?! Why am I here?!"

A laugh. "Don't worry! I'm not going to hurt you." Amelia relaxed. "I just want you to see, that's all." She felt large hands reach to the back of her head. She kept her eyes closed, half curious and half fearful. Something was undone and the wool fell from her eyes. The dirty blonde girl blinked her eyes open, two crystals adjusting to the light. For a while, she saw spots.

"That better?"

"Not really, I see spots." Amelia replied.

The voice laughed again. "It'll get better, I promise." There was a pause. "So, you get why you're here this time?"

Amelia shook her head, blonde curls dancing on her shoulders. "I suppose this is a dream. I never question my dreams. Not like they're real or mean anything really. Dreams will do what they want."

Another pause: this one longer and more uncomfortable than the last. "Whatever you say."

* * *

_THUMP!_

"Ouch…" Amelia's eyes groggily opened. Her face was squished to the hard rock floor, the lashes of her right eye brushing against its cool surface. The other eye gazed out to her surroundings. Booker lay on his back under a woolen blanket, sleeping soundly. She tried to reach a hand down to lift herself up, but found one arm was pressed underneath her chest, the wrist dangling off the edge. She wiggled her fingers officiating that there was no way on God's green earth that that arm was moving. Amelia flopped her other arm around, finding where it was, only to sigh when it was stuck under a mound of pillows. How the pillows ended up at the foot of the bed was beyond her.

Shimmying around on the bed, the young American attempted to gather herself back on the mattress, only to succeed in falling off. Her body, as her torso slid further off the bed, flipped, resulting in her hips landing squarely in the middle of Booker's stomach, her foot kicking him in the face on the way down.

"YEOWCH! … Fuck." Booker sat up, sending the girl a groggy glare. "Really, Amelia, was that necessary?!" He shouted as he doctored his now bruised eye.

"Yes. I was stuck." Amelia explained, her voice muffled from the floor.

Booker shook his head. "God… what time is it?" he reached over and snatched his glasses from beside him. "I swear if you broke these," he warned as he squinted, trying to examine them half blind, "I will throw you to the sentry, yell that you've been stealing food, then run." He tested the spectacles out by placing them on his nose. There was a new, hairline crack that wasn't there before the side-show, but he decided to let that go.

"Please don't!" Amelia scrambled up, terrified. She got to her knees and bowed her torso; her face mere centimeters off the floor. "I swear I won't do it again, just don't let them know!"

Finger combing his hair out, Booker laughed. "Ah, you know I wouldn't do that to you."

Amelia straightened, frowning. "Sure you wouldn't."

"What? You don't believe me?"

A loud ringing cut the two off. It was the morning breakfast bell. The two stood up and readied themselves for the journey to the dining hall, ready to get the day going.

* * *

Breakfast was as bland as usual. The usual small rations of barely edible food were handed off in trays to the patrons so as to monitor the portions. After Amelia passed her sanitation check, she sat at the adolescent table waiting for Booker to get done with his check-up. She sighed, twirling her fork around. Her dream was really getting to her. It was almost too real last night. But, more importantly, what did it mean?

When Booker arrived to the table, he snatched the fork out of her hand, placing it back on the table. "We aren't supposed to pick up any utensils until we are permitted to eat." He reprimanded, giving her a slight glare.

Amelia groaned. "Why are you such a pansy!? It's always rules, rules, rules with you! God sometimes I feel like I'm back in first grade."

Booker's expression softened. "I just don't want you getting in trouble. The may give you a warning the first time, but you _know_ the punishment gets worse from then on."

"It's not like they're gonna take a _whip_ to me for twirling a fork!"

Her friend paused. "…That all depends on the number of offences…"

Amelia's eyebrows scrunched in a mixture of perplex and dismay. She darted her eyes over to the hygiene directors and watched them. In the distance she heard the crack of a whip echoing softly. Her aqua eyes danced to the back wall. She cocked her head. Nothing was behind that wall, as far as she knew.

_But, I could be wrong, _she supposed. Though, the sound was something she never noticed before. She leaned forward in her seat, glancing up and down the table. Everyone in the sect _seemed_ to be there. She recognized all the faces that is. She fell back, trying to push the mind-numbing thought out of her mind. For now, she needed to focus on breakfast.

* * *

It was a demand that she return to the orphanage today. Amelia, who had no real intention of going back just yet, had to be dragged by Booker and Gage, who gave her a sympathetic smile. As soon as she entered its splintering wood doors, she was set to cleaning duty: mopping the floors, unclogging the toilets, window washing, etc.

Just the joy of being her.

Amelia was currently mopping the main lobby with her roommate, Catherine. Catherine took the east side while Amelia chose the west. The two kept light conversation, often pausing to shrub a tough spot, but nevertheless kept the banter going.

"Hey, Cathy?" Amelia called, eyes trained on the soap suds beneath her feet.

The red haired girl shot Amelia a smile. "Yeah, Amy?"

The dirty blonde girl leaned on the stick of her mop, balancing it so she wouldn't fall face first. "Do you think that the Honeycomb will start any population control?"

Cathy tilted her head, fiery curls dancing over her shoulder. "Why do you ask that?"

"Booker mentioned something like it last night."

The ginger scoffed, barking out a harsh laugh. "He's such a downer. Why do you even talk to him in the first place?"

Amelia laughed, asking Catherine to not judge her if she told. Catherine nodded, motioning her friend to continue. "The first thing I noticed of him when we were kids was his hair and eyes. That combination of blond and green just relaxed me. He sure as hell pisses me off, but every freaking time I look at his face I just calm down."

"Maybe you had a past life in which you had someone with those traits looking after you."

Amelia shrugged. "Perhaps."

The was a small silence before the other piped up. "So you were asking about population control?"

"Yeah."

"Apparently the Nest has set a law about that. No population control will be put into effect." Catherine glanced around the lobby before continuing. "But I don't believe it. Remember Robby?" Amelia nodded. Robby was a close friend of hers. The two would often go steal food from the kitchens late at night together. "He was adopted last year right?" Another nod. "Have you seen him around since?"

Amelia froze. She hadn't. Robby just dropped off the face of the earth. "Couldn't he have just gone to another Sect?" she asked. Her arms were starting to go numb, and only partially from the position she was on her broom.

Cathy's violet eyes shut lightly as she shook her head. "No, that's prohibited remember? You can't adopted out of your Sect. So-"

"He should still be in the Sect…" Amelia finished, legs going numb as well. She fell to the ground. Her friend rushed to her side, asking her if she was okay, but she ignored it. Her mind was fuzzy and cold. Standing up shakily, she threw the mop in its bucket and excused herself. "I need to lie down."

Cleaning could wait.

* * *

"So… have you noticed anything yet?"

Amelia's head shot up, eyes wide. She had only laid down for a few minutes, and the next thing she knew she was chained to the same pole as the night before. The room chilled her skin, and her shoulders ached from sitting in that position. The dots began to disperse from her vision, and she saw the brightest light she ever faced. She squinted her eyes in hopes of adjusting to the shine.

"Noticed what? That you're burning my corneas?" she replied, more than a bit snarky.

The light laughed. "No. I meant noticed why you're here."

She thought about that. Twisting her mouth, the young woman thought of all the things that would make this dream reoccurring. She had never experienced a reoccurring dream before. Slowly, she etched out an answer with her lips. "Every time I 'come here' I have a conversation that upsets me. Is that it?"

"Well, yeah. But why do the conversations upset you?" the figure before her was pulling out answers from her, almost like trying to find the rope by yanking each individual string from the pile. She shook her head.

"Things just don't seem right in the Honeycomb anymore." Amelia shivered. "I feel like I may be next." A gust of wind blew, making her cold all over. It was then that she realized how vulnerable she was. Her body was completely nude as she sat on the cold floor. Her face heated up out of embarrassment, and she squirmed, trying to break free to hide herself.

The incandescence in front of her suddenly produced a warmth; the kind of subtle warmth that calms even the most frazzled and terrified minds. "Don't worry," it said as a brown piece of cloth fell atop her body. It was thick, and large enough to engulf her. "You'll be fine. I'll be here."

Amelia blinked and her breathing slowed. The nightmare began to brighten. She smiled, letting herself wake back up.


End file.
